


Fire Breather vs Firearms

by wilde_in_her_eyes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BAMF Hobbits, Gen, Hobbits with Guns, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilde_in_her_eyes/pseuds/wilde_in_her_eyes
Summary: Trying to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere, Bilbo jokingly replied “Well I do have some skill at Conquers.” Not that the dwarves would know the weapons used in Conquer the Field. It was common knowledge in Hobbiton that Outsiders preferred, ahem, less developed weaponry for some reason.Not that the Hobbit’s questioned their preferred arms, oh no, that would be terribly rude.Not that it stopped Bilbo from wondering why they didn't just use guns.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 313





	Fire Breather vs Firearms

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Para Bellum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/660842) by [RyuuzaKochou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuuzaKochou/pseuds/RyuuzaKochou). 



“He’s here.”

Scrambling up out of his seat, Bilbo couldn’t help the spike of annoyance he felt directed at Gandalf. Honestly, polite society dictated that you give a gentle-hobbit at least twenty-four hours warning before coming over for dinner, let alone inviting over guests to someone else’s hobbit hole. Barging in unexpected at bringing thirteen dwarves was the height of improper behavior.

At least the banging at the door had stopped.

Hurrying up to the door, the only thought on his mind was that he hoped this dwarf would be the slightest bit more polite then the rest, though the young one with the plaits had at least asked where to put his plate.

As Gandalf opened the door, his Big Folk legs making him a bit faster than the rest, he was unsurprised to see another dwarf. What was surprising was the comment about the mark on Bilbo’s door.

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door,” he poked his head out to check. “It was painted a week ago, I –”

Before he could get his nose out his own front door, Gandalf shut it behind him. The cheek of this wizard, why if his mother hadn’t taught him better he’d –”

“Bilbo allow me to introduce you to the leader of this Company,” Gandalf, ever the dramatic old man if Bilbo’s memories served him well, gestured to the newcomer.

“Thorin Oakenshield.”

With long black hair and a cropped beard, this dwarf was different from the rest. In the light of the hallway, he seemed almost regal in his bearing. That air, however, was dashed to pieces by his next words.

“So, this is the hobbit.”

He could feel the disdain dripping off Oakenshield’s words.

“Tell me, Mister Baggins, have you done much fighting?”

“Pardon me?” Bilbo could’ve sworn he heard wrong, that wasn’t something you just ask someone –

“Axe or sword is your weapon of choice?” The dwarf continued, seeming to stare down his nose at Bilbo as stalked around him in an overbearing circle.

Trying to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere, Bilbo jokingly replied “Well I do have some skill at Conquers.” Not that the dwarves would know the weapons used in Conquer the Field. It was common knowledge in Hobbiton that Outsiders for some reason preferred, ahem, less developed weaponry for some reason. Not that the Hobbit’s questioned their preferred arms, oh no, that would be terribly rude. “If you must know, but I fail to see why that’s relevant.” That reminds him, why were all these dwarves in his hobbit-hole?

“Thought as much.” Oakenshield turned, leaving a confused and insulted hobbit behind him. “He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The rest of the Company chuckled, even Gandalf laughing into his beard.

Yet, despite this blatant insult, Bilbo Baggins still rushed out Bag-End the next day, his well-used rifle slung over his shoulder with ammo in his bag, and instructions left with Hamfast to fire blanks at Lobelia if she continued to come after his silver-wear.

~

About sixty years before Bilbo was born, the Gerontius Took, known as the Old-Took to most even then, had recently come back from an adventure with Gandalf the Grey. When he returned, he made it his aim to address the problem that Hobbits had, for generations, ignored.

They were hilariously out-manned.

Now this hadn’t used to be as big of a deal, when there were far more Rangers and the Hobbit lands were not nearly as plentiful. But he knew it wouldn’t be long before some greedy Big-Folk came along to steal what was not theirs. So, with his knowledge cultivated after meeting the occasional pleasant dwarf on his travels and discussions with the few hobbit blacksmiths he set to work.

It really took off when the dwarves in the Blue Mountains began looking for places to export black powder, an accidental invention that was far to flammable to have around mines. Gerontius saw an opportunity and quickly bought as much as they were willing to offer, while extracting a trade agreement for assistance during long winters in exchange for this powder. Combining it with several other materials, the Old-Took was able to create controllable explosions, and with that several more inventions swiftly came.

Most hobbits viewed these violent weapons with disdain, until Isembold Took saved a young Poppycock Brandybuck from a deranged man who was dragging her off from the outskirts of a field. The tearful Brandybucks had thanked him over and over, before requesting the weapon that Isembold had apparently invented with the help of his father.

And so, the first gun was sold.

These weapons became quite common very quickly as made hunting animals incredibly easy, and they had an interesting effect of becoming a sort of status symbol. The better, more accurate, more powerful your gun, the more important you were.

So, it should come as a surprise to no-one that the Baggins of Bag-End had a brilliant, new shotgun, with excellent range.

Especially since he was the established best at Conquer the Field, used with paint-guns and blanks, and had been one of the several hobbits to fire at the white wolves of the Fell Winter.

~

Several days later the questions started coming.

“Mister Boggins, why do you have a stick on your back?” One of the brothers, the blond one, piped up.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you just throw it off? It looks heavy and I’m sure we could get you a better stick.” The dwarf puffed up his chest, looking absurdly proud of his ability to fetch a stick. 

“It’s Baggins, and it’s fine boys, I quite like this stick and I paid good money for it.” Not wanting to explain the concept of a gun to the dwarves, and not wanting to see one of them try it and accidentally blow someone’s head off, Bilbo tried to brush them off.

“What? Why do hobbits pay for sticks? Can’t you just get your own? Fili do you know about this?” Glancing at his brother, the young dwarf’s eyebrows raised.

“No no no, I’m happy with this stick and I’d like to keep it that way. Speaking of, is that a bow I see on your horse?” Bilbo quickly asked anxiously, not wanting to have to let them look at the gun.

Though later that week when strung up by a troll, Bilbo almost wished he’d mentioned it.

~

It was months later when the topic came up again.

“Bilbo, why don’t you let go of the stick, you’ve got to get rid of the extra weight.” After the Carrock, Thorin seemed more willing to talk to Bilbo, almost worried about him.

If he’d known all it took to get some respect around here would be to throw himself in front of a sword and almost die for the Company, he would have done if months ago. He was annoyed that with all these sword waving dwarves around he’d completely forgotten about his own preferred weapon. Oh well, at least he’d been able to shoot that thing in the caves before it had come to close.

“No, I quite like my stick, I’d rather not.” He knew he was being impolite, but one day of concern didn’t change the fact this dwarf had insulted and degraded him for the entire trip.

“Burglar, no matter how attached you are we need to travel light.” Bilbo could see Thorin’s temper fray and felt a little bit shame for his attitude. There was no need to disregard someone who was trying to make amends.

“It’s just this isn’t just a stick Master Thorin, it is my preferred weapon.”

“Just Thorin, and what do you mean? The metal on it doesn’t look nearly sharp enough to draw blood.” The dwarf’s eyebrows had puckered, making him look a lot like his nephew.

“It’s my weapon Thorin, and I’d like to just leave it at that.”

~

Unsurprisingly, once the Company heard that the stick was Bilbo’s preferred weapon, there were a few comments.

The usually quiet Dwalin, as the Captain of Thorin’s guard, was quite disappointed.

“It isn’t even sharp, Bilbo, nothing’s going to get hurt by poking it with that.” Drawing his axes, he remarked to the company at large, “Now these, these are some real weapons!” The roar accompanying these words almost drowned out the next words.

“Okay.”

Eyes turned to the hobbit.

“I’ll show you how this, ahem, stick, works.”

~

Thorin glanced over as the noise grew quiet. When he saw Bilbo rummaging around in his pack, he walked over intrigued. After the disastrous confrontation with Azog, may Mahal curse his name, he’d re-evaluated his opinion of the hobbit. He knew after months of travelling with him that, even though the hobbit was not the warrior he originally desired, he had his own merits. With a steady heart and loyalty to the quest, the hobbit was brave enough to attempt something that hundreds of his own kin had been too cowardly to try.

Confused he glanced around, surprised to see Dwalin with his axes out.

“Fili, what’s going on here?”

It was Kili who answered, bouncing on the balls of his feet looking eager. “Bilbo’s going to use his stick against Dwalin, show us all how it works.”

Withdrawing from his pack, Bilbo glanced up in surprise. “Not against Dwalin, no. This is a long-range weapon, and it’s not a stick.”

“Oh?” the question had left him before he could stop it and their eyes caught. A smirk worked its way across Bilbo’s face, and he dropped his head.

“No, Thorin. This is one of the Isembold’s latest, called the BGN-49. He designed it with me in mind, apparently.” He fiddled with the stick, and slid one of the small pieces of metal into a compartment.

“But this type of weapon is called a gun.”

With a few clicks, the gun was perched on Bilbo’s shoulder and aimed into the distance.

“You see that bee’s nest?”

It was Dwalin who spoke, “Yes, but that’s got to be at least 150 paces away, Kili would have trouble hitting– “

There was a loud bang, where most of the company went for their weapons, and the bee’s nest exploded outwards, honeycomb and agitated insects flying in all direction.

The silence after was brief, followed by a roar of surprise and comments by the Company.

“Well I never–”

“Who would have expected–”

“–in a stick so tiny!”

“ENOUGH.”

Thorin walked forward, prying Bilbo’s attention from where it had clung to his weapon.

“You know how to use this, gun?”

Bilbo’s cheeks stained red, whether from anger at the insinuation that he could not use his own weapon or embarrassment from the question he could not tell.

“Then I see no problem if it is used for the defense of the company.”

The cheering that went up at this proclaim was the loudest yet, and Bilbo’s red face broke out in the brightest smile Thorin had seen.

~

He knew that it would only be a day before this army of Orcs hit, and Thorin had thrown him out of the mountain at the mercy of the men and elves.

Despite this, Bilbo Baggins knew he was still under contract, and though he did not care for the Company (lie) he would take up arms against the invaders for them.

Once this man moved out the way.

“I said”, he repeated, “that I need to go to the front lines.”

“No, we can’t risk children, be they dwarf or man or whatever you are.”

Bilbo could feel his temper snap like twine. “Well I am no child and you, you idiotic numskull, should move before I make you. I have my weapon, and you currently need more soldiers. So, let me pass.”

Grumbling, the man did as asked, but not before muttering to the man beside him who ran off.

Bilbo couldn’t care less as he reloaded and moved forward, only to stumble as the ground shook and Big-Folk fell around hm. Hurrying, he scrambled up a slope for higher ground, before taking aim on the approaching army. Digging through his pack, he managed to pick up a few of his own inventions and lobbed a fist size object at the Orcs.

The following explosion by the grenade was larger than anything seen on Middle-Earth before.

~

The tales of the Battle of the Five Armies, as it would soon be called after, often described how the gods themselves fought the invading orcs and goblins, and how the battlefield was struck with explosions and lightning that destroyed the enemy.

And if a hobbit tucked in his hobbit-hole ever caught wind of these tales, well, the journey may have been unexpected, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t prepare.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. This is my first fic, so we're just going to ignore the fact that Bilbo carried grenades and ammo across a country.
> 
> Thanks for reading, love you.


End file.
